Struck Down
by FoxCrazy
Summary: Zalla wakes up on the beach one day, but has no idea where she is, or what her past was. Follow her on her journey to discover the true secret of her life. **My first FanFiction. Please Review. Rated T just in case


I woke with pain slicing through my back like a blade. I couldn't move, even enough to open my eyes. It just hurt too much. I could hear waves, and the cries of birds, so I figured that I was near open water. It was probably an ocean. I racked my mind, trying to remember what had happened to cause me such pain, but I realized that I could remember naught but for my name—Zalla.

I tried once more to move, to open my eyes, to at least be able to call out for help, but, alas, twas not yet to be. I was destined to lay there a while longer, until I was able. I relaxed, in the hope that staying still would ease the pain, or allow life to seep back into my motionless body. For anyone who saw me would have thought me dead, and thrown me in the water, and I would surely have drowned. I waited, for what seemed like hours, but I was still rendered vulnerable. Finally, the steady lapping of waves, and calls of birds lulled me into a soft and easy slumber.

I again woke to the searing pain of my back. But this time, I could open my eyes, and feel what was around me, though my movement was limited. I could see the golden sand stretched before me like a sheet, with small sand dunes breaking the smooth surface occasionally. I felt my left arm pinned between me and the soft ground beneath me, as well my other supporting me, though barely, and keeping me from lying face first in the sand. The water was close, reaching at the sand and pulling it in not five feet in front of me. Of this, I feared. If I was not able to move when the water rose, then I would be left at its mercy—and a cruel mercy the sea had.

I tried to look up, but the action made the pain in my back worse. It was so great that I couldn't even tell where it originated. So I lay there, still waiting for life to seep back into my deadened limbs. At some point, the soft winds turned harsh, and dark clouds covered the sun. I feared the worst—that I'd be stuck in the storm.

A sudden wave of weariness hit me, and I closed my eyes. I fought sleep for as long as I could, which was quite a while with the aid of the wind. But I just couldn't keep it away long enough. So, I eventually fell asleep in the hope that the storm would pass.

I woke with a start. I had had the worst of nightmares, but I had no idea what it was about now that I was awake. I had forgotten.

"Darn it all! I'm always forgetting!"

Even my voice seemed foreign to me. It was a mix of soft, but with a harsher edge that was easier to discern, to myself, I also sounded a bit hoarse, as if recently yelling at someone. I sat up, realizing that my pain had subsided to a dull throb. I looked around where I was, realizing it was a small room, and I was sitting on the only bed, a soft one, too. The walls were made of a grey-blue stone, and as I raised my hand to touch one, it felt cool and almost soft to the touch.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, noting that my pants, though slightly torn, were wealthy-looking. I stood up, but my shaky legs merely prevented me from walking, and I sat back upon the bed. There were two doors leading from the room. One, at the end of the bed, led outside, I guessed, from the sound of rain hitting the wood. My attention turned to the other door, and I saw a light flicker on the other side, accompanied by footsteps.

I calmed myself, closing my eyes and bringing my legs into a crossed sit. The position stressed my injury a bit, but I could finally pinpoint it using the slight pain. It was a cut along my lower back, slightly angled up from left to right. The small pain soon subsided, and I relaxed a bit more.

I heard the door creak open, and I opened my eyes. A small girl, no older than 14, slipped in, closing the door behind her. She carried a candle, and I squinted against the sudden light. She wore a silken nightgown, and as she placed the candle on the small table by the door, her brown shoulder-length hair obscured her face. By the time my eyes had adjusted to the light, and I could see without squinting, she had retrieved a chair from the corner of the room. She sat, while I remained still, watching her.


End file.
